The phone rang. And rang. And rang.
I was in the top bunk of my bed upstairs in my tiny room in my tiny apartment on Handy Street in New Brunswick, New Jersey. It was late Monday night, December 8, 1980 – technically Tuesday morning, December 9. Finals at Rutgers University were days away. So my three apartment-mates and I were in bed early. It was only 1:30 AM.
The phone continued ringing. And ringing. Cookie hollered, “Is someone going to get the phone?” Alphie replied, “Not me!” So I squirmed out from under the blankets and slid off the side of the bed. A lot of curse words were in the air, and some were on my lips as I stomped down the steps and into the kitchen. I picked up the phone and in a voice fashioned to show that I was not happy, I yelled, “What!”
“They killed John Lennon.”
It was my friend Jill. She was beside herself with grief. It took a few minutes to grasp what she was telling me. Somebody had walked up behind him outside of the Dakota Hotel in New York City, where he lived with his wife Yoko and their son Sean. The man fired five bullets. Four struck John in the back. Two of them fatally damaged his arteries and by the time they got him to the hospital he was dead.
When the tragedy finally sunk in, I slinked down to the floor, leaned against the refrigerator, and started sobbing. Jill asked, “What are we going to do?” The question meant both “What are we going to do about this event?” and “What are we going to do without John Lennon in this world anymore?”
I told her I was getting dressed and coming over. Screw sleep, screw finals. This was way bigger than any stupid grade for some stupid class. This was real life! This was the assassination of one of the most important people in my life. I cannot imagine a public figure – a musician, a politician, an athlete, or any other – who meant more to me at the time than John Lennon.
Coming Together
I arrived at Jameson Dormitory around 2:00 AM. About ten Douglass College students milled around in the lounge. Six of us decided to walk the mile and three-quarters across town to the main student center. Along the way we joined another group and then another until we were about twenty-strong.
When we arrived at the Rutgers Student Center, close to 3 o’clock, there were hundreds of students gathered outside the building. Other than a few hushed whispers, you could hear people crying and someone playing “Imagine” and “Give Peace a Chance” on his acoustic guitar. People held candles, cried, hugged, and wept. A few managed to sing a line or two with the guitar player.
A Prayer for John
A little before 4:00 AM, a man came and opened the Student Center – at least two hours before the regular opening time. We were asked to gather in the Multi-Purpose Room. Father Bill, the Catholic priest on campus, dressed in blue jeans and a flannel shirt, addressed the crowd, telling us that God works in mysterious ways; he called John home because it was his time. Father Bill, was no square. If there were but one hip priest in the world, it was Father Bill. So his stock sermon was very comforting. After a few words, he asked the guitar player to come forward and lead us in singing “Imagine.” Almost everybody sang at least one line of the song. The singing was muted. The weeping was deafening.
Soon, “the Listening Room” was opened. Speakers broadcast Beatles and John Lennon songs. Our time in the room was limited to ten minutes because it could only fit about 100 people at a time.
Class Cancelled
At 9:00 or so, I left to go to my last class before finals. When I arrived, bleary-eyed and still in shock, I discovered that the class had been cancelled. The final exam, scheduled for later that week, was postponed. More than half of the classes at Rutgers were cancelled that day. There was even talk of canceling final exams altogether. I couldn’t imagine how the University could justify that, or pull it off. But I also couldn’t imagine how anybody could sit and take an exam.
Over the next week, and well beyond in many cases, every commercial radio station in the New York metropolitan area played nothing but Beatles and John Lennon songs. Celebrities came on the air to share their memories of and experiences with John.
The Naked Truth
John Lennon was dead. In my view, no celebrity had ever bared his soul as openly as John Lennon. There were no vails between his heart and his audience. Just hours before his murder, John and Yoko posed naked for a photograph that landed on the cover of the January 1981 Rolling Stone magazine. The photo summed up who John Lennon was – a man naked to the world, willing to share everything, willing to hide nothing. In 2005, the American Society of Magazine Editors named this cover as the top magazine cover of the previous 40 years.
I was just a boy when the Beatles broke in 1964. My best guess is that the girls screamed most for Paul because he was cute (as well as one of the best rock musicians of all time). I think the young boys, like me, jumped up and down and yelled because John sang with unbridled, fearless, and defiant joy. A grown man with the heart of a child.
Growing up with John
As we grew up and the Beatles matured, John showed an authentic, passionate concern for the human race. He advocated peace and spoke against hypocrisy. He may have been too intense, too iconoclastic for many. But for me, John Lennon hit the mark square. But what really drew me to him were the spiritual tidbits he infused into his lyrics. That’s a topic for a whole ‘nuther letter.
The day John Lennon died, I was 21 years old. Over the five years I spent in college, music became a trusted beacon and a door to learning about the world we lived in. I was attracted to the sound, but even more to anything that resembled a “message.” John Lennon’s songs, warranted or not, were said to be full of both hidden and overt messages. I had heard every message that was there – and many that probably weren’t. The “secret messages,” the deeper meaning, the guiding light I found in so many songs – especially John Lennon songs – are big reasons why a year and a half later I decided to buy a guitar and become a musician.
Ten Minutes of Silence
On Sunday, December 14, 1980, six days after John Lennon’s murder, my friend Howard and I joined a quarter of a million people gathered in Central Park in New York City. Millions around the world gathered in other places. At 2:00 PM, the world went silent. Nobody spoke. Many prayed silently. Every radio station in New York, including all-news stations went silent. After ten minutes, the crowd broke out singing “Imagine.”
If I had to testify under oath in a court of law, I would say that John Lennon was there among us as we all sang. I wasn’t the only one who felt it. When the song ended, somebody standing nearby yelled, “John Lennon is dead. Long live John!”
Keep the Flame Alive!
Here’s a link to the original Imagine video:
wow, I remember Father Bill. I was watching the Jets - Dolphins game on Monday Night Football when Howard Cosell broke in with the shocking bulletin. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n73GFvAyIjs